


Cameras Can't Capture Art in a War Zone

by nonbinarycoded



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: graffiti artist bitters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5003881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinarycoded/pseuds/nonbinarycoded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Much to the delight of the camp, a graffiti artist from Armonia has resurfaced after its destruction. Bitters has absolutely no idea who it could be, and no, you can't check his helmet cam's footage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cameras Can't Capture Art in a War Zone

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this post I made from about a month ago: http://nonbinarygrif.tumblr.com/post/128497325007/give-me-graffiti-artist-bitters-though-like-not
> 
> Also an experiment in writing from the point of view of a helmet camera, not the person inside the helmet.

“And people are really glad this person’s back, everyone thought they didn’t make it out of Armonia! And all their old paintings are all gone so nobody really expected to see anything new but then--”   
  
“Palomo, oh my god, do you ever shut up? Go bother Jensen with this.”   
  
“Why would I go to Jensen?” Palomo asked, forcing an uneasy laugh. “You don’t think I spend too much time with her, do you? I mean, I wish I did, but I don’t! Oh-- It’s not that obvious I wish I did, is it? …Forget I said that.”

A long silence stretched between the two, and Bitters’ helmet camera shifted as he crossed his arms.

“...I’m just gonna go,” Palomo muttered, darting off. Bitters sighed, walking off to his bunk. He took off his helmet first, dropping it to the floor and letting it roll. It came to a stop against the end of the bed, leaving the video with a tilted view of a slowly growing pile of armor. The camera’s angle meant that only below Bitters’ knees were visible as he removed his armor and crouched down. Cursing softly, he fished a worn backpack from under his bunk.

The contents of the bag clunked together as Bitters opened it. He reached inside and removed a paint-stained dust mask and a faded hoodie that looked to be years old. He stood again, and after a moment lifted the bag up out of view of the camera. The bag and its contents shifted and clanked as he put it on, then walked out of view of the camera and down the barracks.

**\- - -**

Nothing happened on the camera footage for almost 30 minutes; muffled conversations from passing soldiers were picked up every once and awhile, but since most of the camp was off eating or on missions the barracks were nearly deserted. It was almost silent until Bitters walked back onto camera and dropped his paint-dusted bag back onto the ground. The mask and hoodie followed it soon after.

The helmet cam shook as Bitters set it on his bunk and started to put his armor back on. He glanced down at his helmet before picking it up, and the look in his eyes was one almost nobody had seen from him- pride. He put his helmet back on and crouched again, shoving the hoodie and mask back into the backpack over cans of spray paint then shoving the whole bag under his bunk.

**\- - -**

“Bitters-”    
  
“Oh my god, no. No, I  _just_ finished dealing with Washington, and you didn’t stop talking during training for more than like two minutes at a time. I do not fucking need-- Oh. Okay, we’re moving now. This is fine,” Bitters deadpanned as Palomo grabbed his arm and tugged him along behind him.

“Bitters, there isn’t time for your sarcasm right now, you have to come see what the painter did!”

“Okay, first, there is  _always_ time for sarcasm. Second, I don’t  _care_ what some shitty graffiti artist did.” Bitters tried to pull his arm away from Palomo, who didn’t falter. He led Bitters to the front of the camp, then up to the top of the wall surrounding it.

Nobody but scouts and guards were supposed to be up there, so the already large and quickly growing crowd of soldiers clustered at the top was slightly out of the ordinary. Palomo and Bitters scaled the ladder to the top of the wall and merged with the crowd, which was looking out over the top of one of the buildings in the camp. If he didn’t already know what they were looking at, Bitters would have assumed it was the plume of smoke still rising over the wreckage of Armonia, just barely visible in the distance. Bitters shoved his way past a Fed soldier to the front of the crowd and pulled Palomo up with him.

The crowd was quiet as they looked over the graffiti on top of the mess hall. Even Palomo was finally, thankfully silent. Bitters stared at the paint for a long time while he let the words ‘Welcome to Armonia’ settle over him the way it seemed to settle over the rest of the crowd.

“That… is  _really_ stupid,” he said eventually, quickly followed by a pained cry as Palomo elbowed him in the side.   
  
“Bitters!”   
  
“Ow--  _What_?”   


“Don’t say that! This means a lot to some people!”   
  
“Then they can think it’s important, but I just think it’s stupid,” Bitters said, and was suddenly acutely aware of the rest of the crowd glaring at him. When he thought he heard someone sniffling, he went to leave. The crowd parted easily for him this time. He descended the ladder quickly, almost entirely tuning out Palomo calling after him. Bitters skipped the bottom several rungs of the ladder and leapt to the ground, but was hardly able to take a step forward before the ground was rushing up towards his helmet rather quickly.

He screamed, a sound not quite loud enough to mask Palomo’s yelp and immediate string of apologies.

“I didn’t think I’d land on you when I jumped, I’m-”   
  
“PALOMO, I swear to  _GOD_ , I’m - ”   
  
“ _So_ sorry, I really didn’t mean to, I-”   
  
“Going to fucking  BURN your box of comics one of these days-”   
  
“Was just trying to stop you from leaving because-”   
  
“ _PALOMO. GET OFF OF ME_. ”   
  
Palomo scrambled up and backed away quickly while Bitters rose to his feet, brushing dirt off his visor. He turned to walk away, leaving Palomo to stutter more apologies behind him.

**\- - -**

Ghanoush sighed, closing out of Bitters’ helmet cam footage. Technically, he didn’t need to be examining the footage anymore, but Kimball still liked to check in on what was meant to be her greatest team of soldiers. She said it was hope. Ghanoush thought it was masochism.

He’d watched certain clips of Bitters’ footage several times over, knowing he’d have to report it to Kimball. She’d been looking for the graffiti artist ever since he’d resurfaced, and it was Ghanoush's job to report to her any suspicious activity in the footage he reviewed.

He’d been so lost in thought that he didn’t realize he’d isolated the footage of Bitters’ bunk. He had two options at that point; he could do his job and include it in the clips to be sent to Kimball, or he could delete it.

**\- - -**

Ghanoush knew he had a duty to Kimball. He knew he had a duty to listen to what she said and follow her orders. He also knew, however, that Kimball’s orders were not infallible. Sometimes, just sometimes, it paid to go off plan, even if only for a little while.

One week later, when Ghanoush saw the memorial for fallen soldiers painted on the back of the armory, he grinned. 


End file.
